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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25089877">A Demon in a Pine Tree</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/borkybuns/pseuds/borkybuns'>borkybuns</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), Angst, Asexual Crowley (Good Omens), Asexuality, Aziraphale Fucks, Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale has been busy having sex with many humans, Aziraphale is Not Innocent (Good Omens), But he doesn't know it yet, Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley is a Mess (Good Omens), Did I mention the pining?, Fluff and Angst, Hurt Crowley, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Oblivious Aziraphale (Good Omens), Oblivious Crowley (Good Omens), Pining, Smut, Voyeurism, all the pining</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-05</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 05:00:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,274</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25089877</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/borkybuns/pseuds/borkybuns</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Crowley has wanted Aziraphale for as long as he can remember, and probably even before that. The trouble is that the angel has barely seemed to notice.</p>
<p>Or:</p>
<p>All the ways in which Crowley has pined for Aziraphale over six thousand years.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale (Good Omens)/Original Male Character(s), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>107</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Amazing Good Omens, On the topic of A</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Demon in a Pine Tree</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>Eden, 4004 B.C.</i>
</p>
<p>They were lounging in the shade of one of the very first trees, sitting on a patch of newborn grass. The sun was low in the sky, the fading light submerging the river Gihon in an orange glow that made it glisten in the sunset. Beyond the river there was a rich orchard of pomegranates. Aziraphale had plucked one from a tree and was popping the seeds in his mouth a handful at a time. His hands were stained red with the juice. Upon his chest was a very contented snake. Aziraphale was part of the reason why Crowley spent so much time in that form. It was the only time the angel allowed him to be that close.</p>
<p>“I could spend forever like thisss.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked down at the snake. “As nice as that would sound, I don’t think that’s The Plan.”</p>
<p>Crowley scoffed, “And you would know, what with it being ineffable and all that? I bet-”</p>
<p>He stopped.</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>Crowley elongated his reptilian body upwards, trying to see higher. “I just heard something.”</p>
<p>They both paused and listened. In the distance, the leaves of a bush rustled and there was hushed laughter. A few seconds later they heard moaning.</p>
<p>“They’re at it again?” Crowley sighed. “That’s the third time today.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale absentmindedly stroked down Crowley’s scaly underside. “Well if they are doing it, it must be-”</p>
<p>“If you’re going to tell me it’s all part of The Great Plan, I’m going to bite you.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale closed his mouth but he didn’t stop stroking Crowley. He gave the snake a pointed look that made Crowley nip at his hand in retaliation. Well, he tried to nip at his hand but Aziraphale managed to move away fast enough. “That was quite rude of you, my dear.”</p>
<p>“Rude? I’m not rude. Rude is whatever they’re doing.” Crowley nodded to the direction of the moaning, which had turned into a steady stream of words that didn’t make sense. “Absolutely no class.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale considered him for a second. Crowley could almost see the cogs turning in his brain. “You really hate it that much?”</p>
<p>“What? Sssex?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale hummed in response. </p>
<p>“The idea of sssex itssself is off-putting to me, angel. Does the thought of people sssmashing together their wet and ssslimy bits sound appealing to you?”</p>
<p>“I had rather thought it was a way for people to show they love each other, my dear,” Aziraphale whispered. There was something in his voice that Crowley would not realise was there until a long time afterwards. If Crowley had been able to remove himself from his disgust, he would’ve realised that Aziraphale was actually asking him a question. A question that would lay the foundations of their relationship.</p>
<p>“Ha! Catch me indulging in pleasures of the flesh. No, I could never do that.” </p>
<p>“Never?” The question was: <i>Could you ever love me?</i></p>
<p>“Never.”</p>
<p>As Crowley coiled himself into Aziraphale’s chest, he completely missed the peculiar look on the angel’s face. He fell asleep surrounded by Aziraphale, oblivious to the foundations of the wall he had just built. It wasn’t until many, many years later that he understood what Aziraphale had been asking, and after that it took no time at all for him to regret what he had said. But it was too late. The wall had been built.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <i>Rome 41 A.D.</i>
</p>
<p>There was a party.</p>
<p>Aziraphale was invited, of course. That didn’t surprise Crowley. The room was soaked in glamour - all marble and silk and fruit. Crowley was willing to bet most people in Rome had never even seen a cherry before.</p>
<p>Crowley saw the angel over by the table of food, having his goblet topped up by a young blond serving boy, who looked to be in his mid-twenties. Aziraphale didn’t notice Crowley sneaking up behind him, too preoccupied with the fruit that lay before his eyes.</p>
<p>“Having fun?” Crowley asked.</p>
<p>Aziraphale spun around, a plate of food in hand.</p>
<p> “Oh, Crowley! I didn’t know you were here. You must try one of the cherries. They’re delicious.”</p>
<p>The corner of Crowley’s lips quirked upwards. “You and food.” He shook his head fondly. The cherries were admittedly delicious. They shared a bunch, and Crowley noticed the sweet juice had stained Aziraphale’s lips a deep red. </p>
<p>“In Rome long?” Crowley asked. He wanted to know how much time he had. He didn’t know when he’d be seeing the angel next. Time was funny like that, for them. They would see each other constantly for maybe a fortnight and then not speak for decades, perhaps even centuries, before their crossed paths again and they acted like no time had passed.</p>
<p>“Just a quick blessing or two and then I’ll be on my way,” Aziraphale replied. “You?”</p>
<p>“Ah, I just,” he shrugged, “have a bit of minor tempting to do.” Crowley didn’t reveal that he’d done all his tempting already.</p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded absentmindedly. His eyes landed on a platter a servant had laid down on the table. “Are those oysters?” </p>
<p>Crowley spun round. “Yep.” When he turned back, Aziraphale was practically drooling.</p>
<p>“Do you mind if I just-” He walked up to the table and started filling his plate. “Sorry-” He didn’t look sorry at all. “It’s just that I’ve had a craving ever since Petronius’. Have you been?”</p>
<p>Crowley shook his head, a fond smile on his lips. He knew where this was going.</p>
<p>“Honestly, Crowley, you need to try it! I have no idea how Petronius gets them so fresh. They can’t be more than a day old. And oh- the flavours are simply divine! You know I don’t use that word lightly.” Aziraphale carried on like that until the serving boy came to refill his goblet again. “Even the- thank you.” He paused in his gushing to smile at the boy before focusing back on the demon. “Even the size of them, Crowley! Some were as big as my hand, can you believe it?” He spread both hands wide for emphasis.</p>
<p>“I believe you,” Crowley assured him. He had tried arguing with Aziraphale once, when the angel had claimed that he’d eaten an octopus arm that had been as tall as him. The hurt look that Aziraphale had given him at his disbelief had been enough for Crowley to never dispute the angel again when it came to food.</p>
<p>“And there was not a single bad oyster in sight! Not one! You know I have a big appetite, so I ordered quite a lot since I knew there would be a few bad ones, but no! Each one was delicious and I had ordered so much that there wasn’t even room for dessert!” Aziraphale looked a bit put out remembering the food he didn’t get to eat. </p>
<p>Crowley made a sympathetic noise in response.</p>
<p> Aziraphale glanced at Crowley and then looked away. For a split second it seemed like he had focused on something behind him, but when Crowley turned to look, there was nothing there. Aziraphale straightened up and adjusted his toga. “Ah, well. Never mind. I must be boring you. I should leave you to get on with your tempting.”</p>
<p>Crowley couldn’t say that he’d lied, that there was no tempting to be done and that he’d only come to the party because he knew Aziraphale would be there, so instead he said, “Right. Yes. Lots of tempting to do tonight. No rest for the wicked.” He cleared his throat. “See you later?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded, not looking Crowley in the eye. “Yes, later.” He scratched the corner of his mouth.</p>
<p>*** </p>
<p>It wasn’t until many hours later that Crowley managed to catch up to Aziraphale. The party was winding down, and many of the guests had left. The halls of the villa were almost completely deserted. Under the dwindling torches, Aziraphale was leading a serving boy through the peristyle, the same serving boy who had been topping up Aziraphale’s cup with wine throughout the night.  </p>
<p>From behind a column, Crowley was about to call out to him, but just as he had opened his mouth, something stopped him.</p>
<p>Before they turned the corner, Aziraphale took the boy’s hand and kissed the knuckles.</p>
<p>Crowley faltered. He had never seen the angel show affection to any human before. Crowley had foolishly thought that he was the only one the angel was 'involved' with, for lack of a better word. He swallowed harshly and followed Aziraphale, walking at a pace too fast to be recognised as anything other than panicked. </p>
<p>Crowley nearly lost them as they slipped into a bedchamber but he managed to catch a glimpse of the serving boy’s sandalled foot. The door of the bedchamber closed shut as Crowley rushed up to it. The confusion and hurt was too great for him to leave, although Crowley knew he wasn’t going to like what he saw. He shifted into his other form and slithered under the door crack. </p>
<p>And there Aziraphale was.</p>
<p>He was on top of the boy on the bed, kissing him with tongue. Both of Aziraphale’s hands were cupping his face, yet Crowley could still see the boy straining to meet Aziraphale’s lips, chasing after more. The boy’s hands were scrabbling under Aziraphale’s toga, trying to tear it off him. Aziraphale took pity on him and disrobed, letting the toga fall on the floor. The garment landed on Crowley, momentarily blinding him until he worked his way out from under the fabric. </p>
<p>Crowley briefly thought about hiding under another object, but his lizard brain told him to stay, surrounded by Aziraphale’s scent. A forked tongue slipped out to taste the air, sweet from the wine and fruit juice Aziraphale had spilled earlier in the evening.</p>
<p>When Crowley looked up, Aziraphale was working the boy’s beige tunic off of his body and laying kisses across his chest. The sight made Crowley’s serpentine heart twist, contorting in a way that was unnatural even for a snake. It lit the fires of some distant, ancient longing, coming up to burn his eyes. </p>
<p>“You’re beautiful,” Aziraphale said, pulling back to stare into his brown eyes. Crowley could see there was something in the boy’s face that looked a little too much like love.</p>
<p>Something in him wanted to scream, wanted to slither up onto the bed and get Aziraphale to notice him, to stop this. But something even bigger told him no, that Aziraphale would hate that and therefore would hate him. So Crowley did nothing. He coiled himself tighter in Aziraphale’s robes and resigned himself to be a front row spectator to the most painful play he’d ever seen.</p>
<p>Crowley watched from the toga as the kisses turned desperate and hungry. When the boy started begging, Aziraphale reached behind his back and miracled a pot of oil into his hand. Crowley could hear the squelching sound of fingers and retreated further into the fabric like it would banish the image from his mind. It didn’t work. He peeked out when he heard a particularly loud groan and knew that Aziraphale was inside the boy. </p>
<p>There was no reason for him to torture himself like that, and yet Crowley stayed. He listened to the moans and ragged breaths and kisses. </p>
<p>He watched his angel and this human share something sacred. Crowley had known the angel for thousands of years, in hundreds of ways, but not like this. Never this intimately. He was not built for this kind of love but he wanted it all the same if it meant he could keep Aziraphale. If anyone from Hell found out about this he’d be thrown into purgatory forever. Satan’s children didn’t know anything of love. They knew lust, but love… that was something else entirely.</p>
<p>All the longing and hurt boiled up inside him and Crowley begged it to go away. But snakes can’t cry. They can’t even blink. So the image of Aziraphale and the blessed human burned itself into the back of his mind as immortal proof of his own perversion.</p>
<p>A cut-off moan marked the point when the boy finally climaxed, shuddering in Aziraphale’s arms.</p>
<p>Crowley couldn’t take it anymore. He twisted away and slithered back underneath the door crack. Before he was out of the hearing range, he heard Aziraphale let out a shattered noise that made him crawl away just a little bit faster.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <i>London, 1893</i>
</p>
<p>Sometimes Crowley was unsure. He had caught Aziraphale’s eyes lingering on him for a little too long too many times to count. He had thought to himself that perhaps Aziraphale felt the same way. And then every time he saw Aziraphale with someone else, his heart crunched. He saw the flushed cheeks, the messy hair, the misaligned buttons, the love bites scarcely hidden. And if he ever saw one of Aziraphale’s lovers he’d never missed the smirks and heated looks and the slightly rushed conversations with the subtext underneath telling him to go away so they could go back to have another round. Over and over again for years and then centuries of this. Seeing people love Aziraphale in a way that he couldn’t. It made his chest ache and his stomach dropped every time he saw Aziraphale with a new lover. He never brought it up. </p>
<p>Aziraphale took great care to minimise Crowley’s interaction with his lovers. But sometimes Crowley would still see the evidence. An unusual hat on the hat stand or a coat he didn’t recognise or socks that had been forgotten on the floor. Once he’d even spotted a pair of underwear and hadn’t been able to look Aziraphale in the eye for a week. </p>
<p>One time he had accidentally walked in on Aziraphale and his latest lover. Crowley had recently gone to Belgium and had taken home a box of chocolates from their favourite chocolatier. He had barrelled into the bookshop an hour after closing, chocolates in hand and he’d caught Aziraphale snogging a young lad against a bookshelf, tangled in each other. They jumped back as soon as they realised they weren’t alone. A lovely purple bruise was forming on the young man’s neck. Aziraphale stopped time and the young man was frozen, lips slightly swollen and eyes still filled with desire.</p>
<p>“Crowley!” Aziraphale had said, in shock. “I wasn’t expecting you.” </p>
<p>“Wanted to surprise you. Never mind. I’ll just, er, leave these here,” he had gestured awkwardly. Crowley had left the chocolates on the coffee table and darted out of the store, ignoring Aziraphale calling after him.</p>
<p>They never spoke about it again, but Aziraphale took extra care to make sure none of his partners’ clothing was ever left lying around again.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Over the coming centuries, Crowley got used to seeing Aziraphale go home with strange men. The angel still tried to be discreet about it, but Crowley always noticed. After Rome, he had fine-tuned his senses to notice when Aziraphale was eyeing someone up. He wondered how many people came before the serving boy. He wondered how many people would come after. </p>
<p>They were sitting in Aziraphale’s bookshop, sharing a single malt Scotch and pondering the existence of the Loch Ness monster.</p>
<p>“I promise you Aziraphale, Nessie is-” Crowley burped. “Nessie is real. I saw her.”</p>
<p>“No you didn’t.”</p>
<p>“Yes, I did.”</p>
<p>“But how?” Aziraphale swung his hands out, the whiskey nearly tipping from his glass. “I mean, where did she even come from?”</p>
<p>“Don’t know. But I definitely, definitely saw her. Humps and everything.” </p>
<p>“When?” Aziraphale was sitting hunched over, focusing on Crowley’s words with too much concentration for someone who’d had so much to drink.</p>
<p>“During that last trip up to Scotland. You know, that time with the fisherman you needed me to bless.”</p>
<p>“Oh my God.”</p>
<p>Crowley snorted. “Probably.”</p>
<p>“But what about-”</p>
<p>The sound of the bookshop door opening cut Aziraphale off.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry, we’re clos- Oh!” Aziraphale stood from his seat and appeared to have sobered up immediately. “Oscar.”</p>
<p>A man Crowley didn’t recognise stood awkwardly next to one of the pillars. He caught sight of Crowley and seemed surprised. “Oh. I’m sorry, I didn’t realise you had company. I can leave-” He turned to walk out but Aziraphale stopped him.</p>
<p>“Wait! Stay. Please. We were just having a drink. There’s enough for another glass. You don’t mind, do you, Crowley?” </p>
<p>When Crowley glanced at the bottle, whatever volume Aziraphale had already drunk was back inside like it had never been touched. The man was still looking a little bit unsure and that was enough to make Crowley clamber to his feet. </p>
<p>Crowley wasn’t stupid. He knew why the man was there. The man probably knew Crowley knew why he was there. But it wasn’t something Crowley could subject himself to again. Rome had already been one mistake too many. On his darker days, he still sometimes revisited that memory of Aziraphale with that boy. He let it play in his mind frame by frame until he could pinpoint the exact moment his heartstrings snapped.</p>
<p>He imagined how the rest of the evening would play out and decided he couldn’t sit by and watch the two of them flirt and get handsy.</p>
<p>Crowley reached into his jacket and pulled out his pocket watch. He pretended to look at the time. He stared at it for a beat too long before snapping the cover shut and shoving it back in his jacket. “Actually, I think I’ll be heading off.”</p>
<p>“Oh, really?” Aziraphale’s enthusiasm dropped a few notches.</p>
<p>Crowley caught his eyes for a second and then looked away. He downed the rest of his glass and put it down on the coffee table with a bit more force than necessary. “See you later.” </p>
<p>He didn’t look back as he swaggered out of the bookshop. </p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Once home, Crowley sat down on the floor. He stayed there for a long time, staring at the wall. He was angry, he knew that much. At who, he didn’t know. Perhaps just himself. He was angry that something was missing. He was angry that he couldn’t let go. He’d tried that already. Spent a century apart from Aziraphale, but all it did was make the longing fester inside him. His heart was open wound, rotting but still beating. Aziraphale was salt. Contact hurt, but it also preserved what little there was left.</p>
<p>He pulled out his pocket watch. Aziraphale always teased him for checking the time too often. Said he looked like the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland.</p>
<p>Crowley popped the cover open. His face crumpled.</p>
<p>
  <i>Somewhere in London, 1839</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“I don’t know why we’re doing this,” Aziraphale muttered through his teeth.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“It’s my new invention,” Crowley murmured back. “It’s going to be great, you’ll see.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>They had been standing still in front of a camera for several minutes now, and Aziraphale was getting restless. </i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“It feels ridiculous, standing here,” Aziraphale complained again. “How do you even know if the photograph will be any good?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“It will be, trust me.”</i>
</p>
<p>The dam broke. Crowley barely even realised it. He was looking down at the photograph on the inside cover of the pocket watch. It was a photograph of him and Aziraphale, the only one he had. The only one he could keep secret from Hell. He’d even dared to wear it when visiting down below, a little piece of Aziraphale he could keep close to his heart. </p>
<p>He knew he shouldn’t have, it was too risky. But he couldn’t help himself. Crowley was weak. He had cut out the photograph and stuck it on the inside his pocket watch to look at when the longing got too much. </p>
<p>A tear threatened to fall down on the picture and Crowley hastily wiped it away. The photograph was old enough that any water damage could ruin it for good. As Crowley rubbed at his cheeks and eyes, the phone started to ring.</p>
<p>Crowley stopped. Only one person had that number. There was only one person Crowley would ever want to hear from anyway. When the telephone first arrived in England, Crowley forced Aziraphale to get one too. Just in case the angel needed him. “For emergencies,” he had said, “or whatever.” Aziraphale seldom ever used it, so the fact that it was ringing was enough to make him scramble up to answer it.</p>
<p>“Hello?”</p>
<p>“Crowley! I’m so glad you picked up,” Aziraphale’s voice was tinny through the speaker. “You left in rather a hurry this evening.”</p>
<p>Crowley slid down the wall and sat on the floor. “I’m fine, angel.”</p>
<p>He must not have been convincing enough.</p>
<p>“Is everything okay? Oscar seemed to have gotten the impression that you didn’t like him. I have to say, you were a little blunt when he came in.” Aziraphale’s voice was as warm as always, tinged with concern.</p>
<p>“What? No, I’m fine, angel. Don’t worry.” His voice nearly cracked there.</p>
<p>“Okay.” Crowley could hear the uncertainty in his voice.</p>
<p><i>Ask me again,</i> Crowley thought. <i>Ask me again and I’ll tell you everything. Ask me one more time and I’ll crack. Please. Ask me if I’m alright and I promise I won’t lie.</i></p>
<p>“Actually there was something I wanted to talk to you about,” Aziraphale said.</p>
<p>“What?” Anything.</p>
<p>“One of Oscar’s plays is premiering in April and he’s invited me to come along and watch. I think you’ll like this one.”</p>
<p>Crowley clicked his tongue. He tilted his head back and rested it against the wall. “Sounds good.” He cleared his throat.</p>
<p>“Oscar has also… invited us to dinner afterwards.” </p>
<p><i>No, angel. He invited </i>you<i> to dinner.</i> Crowley felt a terrible crushing pain in his chest as he fought to keep his voice even. “I don’t think that would be a good idea.” Crowley didn’t think he would be able to spend an entire evening watching the two of them making eyes at each other. It would be annoying if not so tragic.</p>
<p>“Oh.” Crowley could hear the disappointment in his voice. “Well, I-”</p>
<p><i>Ask me again,</i> Crowley thought. <i>I’m hanging on by a thread. Ask me again and I’ll say yes. I’ll always say yes even if it means sitting through your terrible flirting. Even when it means you’re not flirting with me.</i></p>
<p>A single, strained tear nearly fell down his cheeks and Crowley rapidly blinked so it wouldn’t fall. No, this wouldn’t do. This was very unlike him.</p>
<p>“Alright then,” Aziraphale finished. He didn’t say anything else.</p>
<p>“Alright.” </p>
<p>And that was that.</p>
<p>The play was wonderful, just as Aziraphale had promised.</p>
<p>Crowley skipped dinner. He wasn’t hungry.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <i>Dowling Estate, 2013</i>
</p>
<p>It had been quite a few centuries since Crowley had taken a female form. She was not used to having curves, and had had to get a whole new wardrobe before taking up her new position. Tweed looked good on her. As a finishing touch, she had clipped her pocket watch to her jacket. She had grown rather fond of it. </p>
<p>Nanny Ashtoreth clicked the pocket watch open, keeping half an eye out for Warlock through the large French windows. The young boy was playing in the grass, picking daisies. She noticed Brother Francis approaching Warlock, probably going to preach about kindness or something. All the more work for her to do later. </p>
<p>“Ms Ashtoreth?”</p>
<p>The voice nearly made her jump. She clicked the watch shut and put it back in her blazer before turning around. It was the butler, a man in his late forties with a receding hairline. </p>
<p>“Benjamin. What can I do for you?” She observed that the man looked a little tense.</p>
<p>“I was just wondering if you’ve seen my handkerchief? I lost it at some point this morning.” </p>
<p>“I’m afraid I haven’t seen-” her eyes caught on a blue piece of fabric under a coffee table. “Oh wait, is that it there?” She bent over to pick it up.</p>
<p>As she turned to give Benjamin his handkerchief back, she caught him moving his eyes away. It was just a split second but she saw it. He had been staring at her backside.</p>
<p>She realised then that he had probably put the handkerchief there on purpose.</p>
<p>He looked disgustingly smug.</p>
<p>She flung the handkerchief back to him, hitting him in the chest. It fell to the ground and Benjamin didn’t bother picking it up.</p>
<p>“Mind you don’t lose any more of those,” she said curtly.</p>
<p>Nanny Ashtoreth stared him down. Benjamin scowled her, almost surprised that this wasn’t going the way he’d hoped.</p>
<p>“Should’ve known you were a prude,” he sneered. Benjamin left the room with all the entitlement of a man who was used to getting what he wanted. Nanny Ashtoreth was used to his sort. They did not do terribly well in Hell.</p>
<p>She looked back to the garden to find Brother Francis already staring back at her. Even after all these years, Nanny Ashtoreth couldn’t always read his face. He looked away all too soon and she found herself a little more alone. There was someone who could have loved her longer and more deeply than any living being that had ever existed and he was right there in front of her, just out of reach. Their paths were parallel to each other, heading in the same direction but never meeting, never touching.</p>
<p>Brother Francis did not try to meet her eyes for the rest of the day, nor she his. And still, she yearned.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>
  <i>London, 2020</i>
</p>
<p>The thing about Aziraphale was that he was huggable. He was all curves and love handles. People liked touching him, hugging him. He was a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen to all your woes and sympathise. </p>
<p>Crowley was the complete opposite. He was all sharp angles and bony elbows. Nobody wanted to hug him and nobody ever had. He was awkward and sometimes uncomfortable to be around - not that many people wanted to be around him in the first place. For the most part, Crowley had made his peace with it. But there were very few creatures on Earth that rejected all physical contact entirely. Crowley was not the exception.</p>
<p>He had long since decided that if he couldn’t love Aziraphale the way he wanted to, then perhaps he could show his love another way. Chocolates, plants, books, any material belongings that he thought Aziraphale might like. He’d once scoured the country for a first edition Jane Austen, only to tell Aziraphale that he found it lying around somewhere. The beatific smile on the angel’s face had made it completely worth it. Anyway, taking the time to travel around the world to find these gifts made the longing ease slightly. Having some distance helped to calm his feelings into a gentle wave lapping at his feet, which was greatly preferable to the tsunami of emotions he used to get every time he saw Aziraphale. (Or more specifically, every time he saw Aziraphale with someone else.) </p>
<p>“Aren’t you just the prettiest little thing,” Aziraphale whispered to Crowley’s newly gifted orchid. He stroked one of the violet petals with his fingertip. </p>
<p>“Don’t talk to them like that. They’ll start getting ideas,” Crowley shot back. His eyes caught on Aziraphale’s hands, the way he caressed the petals so delicately.</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked up and frowned at him, a little “v” forming on his forehead. “Never mind that grumpy old man,” he whispered again. “He doesn’t know that a little bit of love goes a long way.” Aziraphale turned back to the orchid, completely missing the look of devastation on Crowley’s face. </p>
<p>When Aziraphale stood up straight, he inhaled sharply as if to prepare himself for something unpleasant. The box of Belgium chocolates that Crowley had also gotten for him was gripped in his hands. </p>
<p>“My dear,” he said delicately. “I’d like to say something and I really hope you don’t take this the wrong way.”</p>
<p>“What?” Crowley asked, tense. He didn’t like that look.</p>
<p>Aziraphale opened his mouth and closed it again, struggling to string a sentence together. He glanced down at the box of chocolates, then up again at Crowley. </p>
<p>“Well, you see, it’s about the chocolates.” He lifted the box.</p>
<p>“What about them?” Crowley was frowning now, having no idea where Aziraphale was going with this.</p>
<p>“I mean,” Aziraphale stammered, “we’ve been having them for quite a while, you see.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Crowley stated, “Because you said they were your favourite.”</p>
<p>“Yes, quite. But that was rather a long time ago, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>“Angel, what are you trying to say?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale fumbled with the box in his hands. “I just mean that maybe it’s time for a change. I hope that doesn’t come across as too rude, it’s just that- variety is the spice of life, is it not?” he rambled. “And you know I do appreciate the chocolates but we’ve been having them for so long that it’s getting a little…”</p>
<p>“Boring,” Crowley supplied, keeping his face carefully neutral.</p>
<p>“Well yes, but- Oh Crowley, I hope I haven’t offended you. I really do appreciate the gesture-”</p>
<p>“No, it’s fine, I get it,” Crowley nodded, “You’re getting sick of having the same chocolates for decades, that makes sense.” There was something else as well, something that Crowley could read between the lines, something he didn’t want to think about. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>That night, Crowley rewound and played that conversation about chocolates again and again in his head. He had made his peace long ago with the fact that him and Aziraphale would never be as close as he would like, but Crowley had never stopped to consider the possibility of them not being friends. For six thousand years they had known each other. Through every flood, plague and war that humanity had ever faced, Crowley and Aziraphale had been there to bear witness. They had seen the best and worst of humanity, every advancement and setback, every failure and triumph. </p>
<p>Their friendship was one of the oldest things on the planet and Crowley had thought it indestructible. But now, there was doubt. Because Aziraphale was bored of chocolate. As far as Crowley was aware, Aziraphale had never been bored of any food in his whole existence. He took pleasure in the consumption of food, in the wining and dining of all things fine and fancy, in the snacks and biscuits and teas and pretty much anything edible under the sun. He was a gastronomer, a connoisseur of every dish humanity had ever and will ever make. </p>
<p>Crowley had seen him dislike some foods, been disgusted by others, but never in his entire existence had he heard of Aziraphale becoming bored with food. </p>
<p>Boredom meant indifference. And if Aziraphale could be indifferent about food, one of the defining aspects of his life, then what’s to say he won’t get bored of Crowley too?</p>
<p>They had been friends for quite a while now and aside from that little blip in 1967, their relationship had been pretty steady. After the Armageddon that never was, Crowley had never told him about that night when the bookshop was on fire. He never spoke about the way he’d screamed and cried when he thought Aziraphale was gone for good.</p>
<p>A thought hit him then, that he probably should’ve realised long ago. Aziraphale was more important to Crowley than Crowley was to him. The realisation made his heart squeeze. He didn’t want to believe it was true, but maybe it was. After all the gifts that Crowley had gotten him, he’d never really gotten anything back. A plant at Christmas, maybe but that was about it. Nothing personal, nothing like the well thought out gifts that Crowley had given Aziraphale, not even joke presents like that angel mug that Crowley had given Aziraphale with the wings for handles that made it deliberately hard to hold.</p>
<p>Throughout their exploits over the years, Crowley was always the one to find Aziraphale, not the other way around. He’d done it subtly, kept an ear out for someone talking about a stranger dressed in white and then taken a seat in the nearest eating establishment. It was almost too easy. </p>
<p>Now though, it made him wonder what would’ve happened if he hadn’t done any of that. Would Aziraphale ever have sought him out? He couldn’t be certain.</p>
<p>It was like getting his heart broken all over again.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Something was wrong with Crowley. They were drinking in the bookshop but Aziraphale could tell that Crowley’s heart wasn’t in it. He wasn’t even a little bit tipsy. Crowley hadn’t said anything though. He still chuckled in the right places and asked a question every now and then, but aside from that he wasn’t participating much in the conversation.</p>
<p>Aziraphale wondered what was wrong and if he should bring it up. Maybe the demon wanted to keep it to himself. Although, he supposed that asking and being rejected was better than never asking at all.</p>
<p>“Are you alright, my dear?”</p>
<p>Crowley peered at him through his glasses. “Of course. Why?”</p>
<p>“Nothing,” he shook his head. “You just seem a little off tonight.”</p>
<p>“Ah,” Crowley scoffed quietly. “Maybe that’s just my natural charm.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale smiled at him, but let it go. Perhaps he wasn’t ready to talk about it. Crowley hadn’t been the same since Armageddon. He was a lot quieter now. Before, he was never afraid to be loud, never cared about people giving him weird looks in the street. He never tried to make himself look smaller. Now though, he looked deflated and sad. Part of Aziraphale wanted to reach out and give him a hug, but he’d always suspected Crowley wasn’t one for physical contact. For all the suave and swagger in his walk, he always twisted his body out of the way of humans walking on the street, never letting even a single fibre of clothing touch. This had not gone unnoticed by Aziraphale, who made a note to not touch Crowley unless Crowley initiated it- which was never. That was fine by Aziraphale. The demon made for pleasant company. His witty and dry humour balanced out Aziraphale’s love of awful puns and what Crowley called, ‘dad jokes’. </p>
<p>It was fair to say that after the whole Armageddon business they deserved a break. In recent years they had talked about getting a cottage in the South Downs, away from the busy streets of London. They’d always had separate residences in case of surprise visits from Above or Bellow, but now that that didn’t matter anymore they could finally share a home together if they wanted to. They saw each other regularly enough that Aziraphale had shelved the idea for a while, until an advertisement in the newspaper had led to him calling to book a viewing. </p>
<p>He wanted it to be a nice surprise for Crowley. Aziraphale had managed to work the computer to see pictures of the house and from what he could see it was gorgeous. There was a lovely big green garden that Aziraphale could picture Crowley in, tending to his shrubs. Aziraphale knew he’d always wanted bushes, but living in a flat meant that he had no space. If they bought that cottage now, Crowley would still have most of the summer to try out topiary if he wanted to.</p>
<p>All there was left to do was to bring up the topic to Crowley and see what he thought. </p>
<p>Aziraphale had zoned out a little bit from their conversation, snapping back to reality when he heard:</p>
<p>“Yeah, I might be moving soon.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Aziraphale said. “That’s lovely. Where?” Perhaps it was too soon to be thinking about getting a house together. Maybe Crowley wanted to get his own house first before buying one with Aziraphale. He hoped the demon wasn’t moving too far away, since at the moment it was only a half hour walk from the bookshop to Crowley’s flat.</p>
<p>“Well, I was thinking that it’s been a while since I’ve had a chance to practise my Portuguese.”</p>
<p>That last word yanked the rug out from under Aziraphale’s feet. “What? You’re moving to Portugal?”</p>
<p>“Actually, I was thinking more Brazil.” Crowley tipped his head back and downed the rest of his wine.</p>
<p>Brazil. Over five and a half thousand miles away. </p>
<p>Crowley was looking at him steadily, no hint of uncertainty in his eyes or posture.</p>
<p>Brazil. Was that what Crowley wanted? He looked so sure of himself. Aziraphale had thought somewhat selfishly that they’d be together forever. Ever since the beginning of the Arrangement, they’d agreed to live in the same country, and had even ended up moving to the same city after a while. </p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I mean we were staying together because of the Arrangement, right?” Crowley continued. “And now that that’s over there’s no need for us to be visiting each other so regularly.”</p>
<p>“I guess so.” The shock still hadn’t worn off yet. Crowley had always just been there in Aziraphale’s life, so much so that maybe Aziraphale had been taking him for granted. He couldn’t remember the last time they’d lived so far apart. Near The Beginning, Aziraphale didn’t exactly know where Crowley lived, but he’d assumed it hadn’t been too far away since they had always bumped into each other every once in a while. Brazil, though. That was the other side of the world. No chance of them accidentally bumping into each other at the park. “When are you leaving?”</p>
<p>Crowley shrugged. “It’ll take a little while for me to pack all my things and ship everything over now that we’re not using miracles anymore, but it shouldn’t take more than a week. I’ve already booked my flight for next Friday.”</p>
<p>A week. Until Crowley moved to Brazil. And he already had tickets. Aziraphale stared at him for a few seconds, waiting for Crowley to laugh and say that this is just another one of pranks, that he wasn’t being serious and that Aziraphale was too gullible.</p>
<p>But Crowley didn’t do any of that. He was sat forward in his seat, waiting patiently for Aziraphale’s reply.</p>
<p>“Right,” Aziraphale said. “Jolly good. Might I ask why you’re moving?”</p>
<p>“Just wanted a change of scenery, really.” </p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>He sounded so nonchalant, so casual for someone announcing that they were going to uproot their life and move to another continent. </p>
<p>Somewhere in the back of his mind, Aziraphale was mourning the loss of the future they could’ve had. The cottage in the South Downs that could’ve been theirs. That beautiful garden. He’d never once considered that Crowley might not want that life.</p>
<p>He’d never considered that Crowley might not want him.</p>
<p>All too soon, Crowley was saying his goodbyes (one of his last goodbyes), talking about how he had so much packing to do and complaining about the shipping costs for the sculptures he had. </p>
<p>And then Aziraphale was alone in the bookshop. </p>
<p>It had never felt emptier.</p>
<p>***</p>
<p>Over the next week Aziraphale was in a daze. He had even fewer customers than usual. That was probably a good thing since he wasn’t thinking of selling anything until at least September. </p>
<p>He played back the conversation from the other night in his head, trying to work out where it had gone wrong. How had he not noticed earlier that Crowley was thinking about moving? Why hadn’t he said anything? If Aziraphale had known, had time to process it, maybe he’d have half a shot at convincing Crowley to stay. He’d have found an excuse or made one up about why they’d better stick together even though the apocalypse and the Arrangement was over and done with. Instead, he’d been floored. And all the way through his shock and disbelief, Crowley had been packing his things.</p>
<p>Now it was Thursday. Crowley’s flight was Friday afternoon, so they were spending the evening together as a kind of going away party, just the two of them. Crowley was due to come over soon.</p>
<p>Aziraphale closed the shop and made everything presentable, bringing up a bottle of his best wine from the basement. He put it down on the coffee table and picked up Crowley’s going away present, the shape of which had made it difficult for him to wrap it neatly.</p>
<p>Suddenly Aziraphale found himself blinking back tears. He didn’t want Crowley to go. He didn’t want this to be the last time they saw each other. His heart twisted up at the thought of that little cottage that was nearly theirs. God, that future had been so close he’d almost touched it. If only Aziraphale had remembered earlier, maybe they’d already be living there.</p>
<p>But no, now Crowley was moving far, far away from him and Aziraphale had no idea when they’d be seeing each other next. </p>
<p>He loved Crowley. It was okay to say it now that Heaven wasn’t breathing down his neck. He’d loved Crowley since at least the 1900s but if he was being honest he’d loved him for a long time before that as well. </p>
<p>He’d convinced himself ages ago that it was okay that Crowley didn’t love him back, that he’d never be able to hold Crowley in his arms or take his hand in his own. That didn’t mean that he didn’t long for the closeness.</p>
<p>When he pictured them in the South Downs cottage, he pictured them sleeping in the same bed and waking up together every day. He pictured them curled up together on the sofa, arms wrapped around Crowley’s body, just holding him, grateful that they had each other.</p>
<p>None of that was going to happen now. </p>
<p>A knock on the door snapped him out of his childish daydreams and Aziraphale wiped his face with the back of his hands. He took a shaky breath in and blinked rapidly.</p>
<p>When he was sure that he’d removed the most obvious signs that he’d been crying, he called, “Come in!” and sat down on the sofa. He heard Crowley’s footsteps but didn’t dare look up since he knew his cheeks and eyes would still be slightly red.</p>
<p>“Hi, angel. How are you?” Crowley asked, as he sat down next to Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“I’m good, how are you?” He busied himself with opening the wine bottle and poured them both a glass.</p>
<p>“Fine. Big day tomorrow.” </p>
<p>Aziraphale glanced at Crowley from the corner of his eye. He looked fine.  “Yes. You get everything packed?”</p>
<p>Crowley nodded and launched into a story about how much of a nuisance it was packing up this big bird statue he had in his flat. His words washed over Aziraphale as he tried to focus on them and remember the sound of his voice, hoping to imprint it deep into his brain. Crowley didn’t sound the same over the phone. Telephones never did him any justice.</p>
<p>As the evening passed, Aziraphale was still in the same daze he’d been in all week, half of him not believing that this was real and the other half desperately urging him to focus on what Crowley was saying. </p>
<p>“Are you alright?” Crowley asked, when they were nearly finished with that bottle of wine. He was looking at him strangely.</p>
<p>“Yes, I’m fine, I just-” His eyes catch on the present on the coffee table. “Here. I got you a going away present.”</p>
<p>Crowley looks at the present. “Oh. Thanks.” He put the wine glass down and picked it up, tearing the red tartan wrapping away. “It’s a mug.”</p>
<p>“Yes.” It was the black version of the angel mug that Crowley had gotten for him, with wings for handles. On the front it said ‘speed demon,’ with a picture of a snail dressed in a tartan bow tie.</p>
<p>“You got me a mug.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s face fell. “You don’t like it?”</p>
<p>“I love it.” His voice cracked on the last word. Crowley dropped the mug in his lap and buried his face in his hands. </p>
<p>“Oh, my dear, what’s wrong?” Aziraphale reached over and gathered Crowley in his arms, pulling him close to his chest. Crowley froze, hands still covering his face. Belatedly, Aziraphale realised that this was their first hug. But what if Crowley didn’t want to be hugged? The thought made Aziraphale loosen his embrace. “I’m terribly sorry, my dear. I don’t know what came over me.”</p>
<p>Before he could let go, Crowley pounced on him, wound his arms around Aziraphale and held on tight. A proper hug this time. Aziraphale carefully put his arms back down where they were and squeezed once.</p>
<p>Crowley squeezed back. </p>
<p>Aziraphale suddenly found himself on the brink of tears. He hadn’t known until he’d hugged Crowley that he’d wanted it for so long. </p>
<p>“I didn’t think you wanted me like this,” Crowley whispered.</p>
<p>The words broke Aziraphale’s heart. He laughed wetly, voice trembling as he said, “I want you any way that I can have you.”</p>
<p>Crowley tilted his head at his reply and rested his chin on Aziraphale’s chest. His tear-stained face crumpled as he saw Aziraphale. He reached up to wipe away the tears, but the touch of his fingertips on Aziraphale’s cheeks just made him cry harder. </p>
<p>“We’re such a mess,” Aziraphale said.</p>
<p>“‘Fraid so.” The small smile on Crowley’s face slowly dropped. He let go of Aziraphale and sat up, shrinking away. He looked sad and very tired.</p>
<p>“What’s wrong?” He hated seeing Crowley like that. The look on his face was a mixture of desperation and resignation. No! This couldn’t be happening. Everything was about to fall into place! Aziraphale had no idea what had just gone wrong. </p>
<p>Crowley cleared his throat, choosing his words carefully, “I don’t know if we’re a good fit for each other, angel.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?” he breathed. Neither of them were smiling now. The distance between them felt like miles, but Aziraphale couldn’t bring himself to reach out for fear that Crowley would reject the touch. If tonight was going to be the last time he saw Crowley, he’d rather remember that hug than anything else.</p>
<p>“I am not able to, er, make The Effort, should we say,” Crowley rambled, “And I know that that’s something you like to do, but I can’t- I can’t bring myself to do it. And-”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s heart melted for this mess of a man. </p>
<p>“- I know that it’s a deal breaker for most humans. Not that we’re human, obviously, but you know.” He paused, bracing himself for Aziraphale’s reply, still so sure that Aziraphale would cast him away because of this. His glasses had fallen off at some point and Aziraphale could see his beautiful golden eyes filled with hurt and yearning.</p>
<p>“My dear,” he started, knowing that Crowley was going to remember these words for a long time to come, “I’ve loved you for well over a century, and probably for a long time before that. It is absolutely fine if we don’t make The Effort. All I want is to be able to hold you in my arms and spend the rest of my life with you.”</p>
<p>“I want that too.” A new wave of fresh tears were streaming down his face. “But. You won’t get bored with me?” He whispered that question so quietly that Aziraphale barely heard it.</p>
<p>“Bored? I’d never get bored with you.” How could he ever think that?</p>
<p>Crowley must’ve seen the incredulous look on his face because he was so relieved at Aziraphale’s words. “I just thought…” he mumbled, “You said that you were getting bored of your favourite chocolate. I thought maybe you’d get bored with me one day too. It probably sounds so stupid now.”</p>
<p>“No no no,” Aziraphale rushed to reassure him. “Crowley, no. It’s not stupid. I’m so sorry I made you feel like this. I really was just talking about chocolate. I mean, we’ve been having the same thing for decades, you know.” He reached out to him, taking Crowley’s hands in his own. Aziraphale felt a pang of guilt at the cautious hope and vulnerability in his eyes, but he had to push past that now. “See, that’s the thing, there are so many different types of chocolates in the world, but there’s only one you. So I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re my favourite. And I’d never get bored with you.”</p>
<p>Crowley’s eyes were glassy as he reached towards Aziraphale, pressed up against him until they were chest to chest, cheek to cheek. Aziraphale held him tight and it felt like a beginning. </p>
<p>“I’m sorry I made you wait this long,” Aziraphale whispered.</p>
<p>Crowley shook his head. “You’re here now.” His voice didn’t crack but it was a close thing. “This is nice,” he mumbled.</p>
<p>Aziraphale couldn’t believe he’d been so blind to what was right in front of him. He vowed to make up for several lifetimes’ worth of hugs. The way that Crowley hugged him was still tentative like he couldn’t believe this was happening. Aziraphale wanted to change that. Even if it took another six millennia, he would make sure that Crowley knew that he was loved.</p>
<p>When he felt Crowley smile into his neck, he knew they were going to be just fine.</p>
<p>“Does this mean you’re not moving to Brazil?”</p>
<p>“Nah. I’ve got some unfinished business.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale had never been so happy. This was only their second hug and he looked forward to all the hugs to come. After six thousand years, he’d finally figured it out that Crowley fit just right in his arms.</p>
<p>Later, when they had both recovered from that rollercoaster of emotions there was still a lot of talking to be done. There were flights to cancel and boxes to unpack. There was still an empty cottage in the South Downs waiting for them.</p>
<p>But for now, they just held each other.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Please let me know what you think! :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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